Selfishness Isn't Easy
by Jaxx-in-a-box
Summary: Hermione puts everyone else's happiness first before her own, and Draco is the one to make her see that sometimes, being selfish isn't always a bad thing. Her fiancé is missing, Deatheaters are scouring across Britain targeting Muggle-borns and Draco Malfoy is being as uncooperative as ever.
1. Chapter 1

**Selfishness Isn't Easy**

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><p>Chapter 1: Missing<p>

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><p>Hermione Granger huffed again for what seemed to be the fourth time in the past five minutes. Not only were the papers piling up in her office; Cormac Mclaggen continued to send inappropriate notes to her. She didn't have the time or patience to deal with him today, especially considering how much of a tangent she had gone on for last time she made her way to his office to give him a piece of her mind. No, she simply did not have the time. <em>Maybe I should just send a Howler<em>, she considered. She could never figure out men. As soon as the announcement of her engagement to Anthony Goldstein had been made public (_thanks a lot, Skeeter_, Hermione has thought bitterly at the time), she had been the center of attention in and out of the Ministry. No one had known about her relationship with the handsome man before that, and she could practically feel the women around the office shooting mental _Avadas _at her. Anthony had laughed at her, telling her how she should just pay the attention no mind, like he had.

"Easy for you to say," She recalled saying to him dryly, "you've had a lifetime's worth of practice." He had not argued with her after that, so she assumed he had conceded defeat. Anthony was a great catch; and most of the time she couldn't believe she had been lucky enough to catch his attention. He was kind, funny, smart (well of course he was; he _was_ a Ravenclaw), and it didn't hurt that his physicality matched his intelligence; he was at least a head taller than her, with dark blond hair and honey-colored eyes, lightly tanned skin, broad shoulders and an amazing jawline that would make the Roman and Greek gods envious. He was always a popular source of gossip around the office—not that Hermione paid mind to any of it. In all honesty, it had not even occurred to her that he was working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He certainly wasn't an Auror like herself; she would have at least been on a mission with him before if that had been so. He had told her that he worked in the Wizengamot Administration Services after a clumsy bump-in at a Ministry Ball celebrating the second anniversary of the death of Lord Voldemort.

He had dazzled her with his smile and wit, completely making her forget that she had embarrassingly spilt pumpkin juice on his trousers. She had quickly _Scourgified _it and shakily introduced herself while holding her hand out to shake his. To her surprise, he had taken her gloved hand gently and pressed it to his lips much longer than necessary—she noted the quirk of his lips as a quiet "oh" left her throat. From then on, he had started taking her out to lunch dates where they would talk about anything and everything. One thing led to another, and before she knew it, they were engaged… And that's when people started paying more attention to her. In particular, the amount of male attention.

_You'd think that being engaged would stop it all_, she thought as she dropped her quill into her desk, sighed and ran her hands through her hair in defeat, leaning back into her chair. Looking at the clock on her left, she noticed that it was almost time to leave. Today had been quite the uneventful day, though; Anthony had not come to her office to have lunch with her and there was no mention of any Death Eaters terrorizing more Muggleborns. She'd been stuck in her office all day, not even leaving to purchase lunch but instead transfiguring some tea and biscuits. She supposed she shouldn't have complained; this had been the first week in over a year where she wasn't summoned for recon or an emergency battle. And Anthony was a busy man; perhaps he was over working himself. She smiled to herself on that thought—they were alike in that regard.

Even after the death of Voldemort, there was still a faction of his followers that had escaped capture ad continue to terrorize the Wizarding world, often torturing and killing Muggleborns. As of late, their attacks were growing bolder, and the Ministry's original list of known Death Eaters was thrown out. They had captured a good majority of those that were on the list, but for some reason, the number counted in multiple sightings had doubled. This meant that they were recruiting, and it was up to Harry and his department of Aurors to deal with them. Not wanting to leave Harry to deal with it all by himself, both Hermione and Ron followed. Harry had been named Head of the Auror Office at the tender age of 23, graciously accepting it.

Stepping out of her chair to get ready to leave, she straightened her grey pencil skirt and took the hair tie out to re-tie her hair, which she knew had become something akin to a bird's nest from all the frustrated scratching. _I should tidy up before I leave, at least. _She thought as she glared at the paperwork. As soon as she picked up her first pile, a familiar drawl from the door intruded the room.

"Granger. I see your head clutter has materialized physically. The same could probably be said about your hair."

Rolling her eyes and refusing to meet the cool grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, she continued with her task. "What do you want, Malfoy?" She meant it to sound like a sneer, but it came out tired. She heard the sound of his shoes (which were probably worth more than what she earned in half a year) moving across the floor of her office, stopping just before her desk as he replied.

"What do I want? Not much; perhaps an island all to myself, with bikini-clad women serving me and an unlimited supply of Odgen's oldest and finest firewhiskey." She could practically hear the smirk that he had plastered onto his face.

"So technically you wouldn't be alone."

"I'd have them Apparate when I need them and Apparate when I don't."

She sighed and placed her hands on her hips, finally looking at him. There he was. Draco Malfoy, the man who had everything. Wealth, power, a particularly well social standing (considering his family's history. Though she had to give it to him; he did a good job restoring the family name over the past few years), class and handsome aristocratic looks. He had become an Auror a year after herself and her friends despite Ron's protests (Harry had argued that Malfoy was an invaluable resource of information given his time spent with Death Eaters during the War), passing the evaluation tests and practical only second to Harry himself. His reasoning for joining the cause was to restore his family name, but Hermione still felt as though he did it to continue tormenting the Trio. His services may be valuable to the department, but that still didn't mean he wasn't a world class act of a jerk.

Dressed in the finest all-black suit, with his hair slicked back like it had been in their first year at Hogwarts, his face had matured with a more chiseled jaw (albeit still pointy), a nose that screamed aristocratic breeding, a lean to medium build and the infamous Malfoy smirk on his face, he looked completely out of place in her office. "Get to the point Malfoy, I've had a long day and would like to head home."

It was his turn to look away from her, idly looking around her office as he spoke. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your fiancé has gone missing."

There was a claustrophobic silence that filled the room for a few seconds before she could form any words. The room began to spin so fast that she had to look away and grasp the corner of her desk for support."W… What do you mean? Anthony's missing?"

"Whom else would I be talking about?" He rolled his eyes.

Panic filled her chest. "What do you mean 'missing'? I just spoke to him—"

"A week ago? Yes, like everyone else. He hasn't been seen at work this entire week, has not contacted his office, and his apartment seems to have been broken into. Honestly, he's _your_ fiancé; you'd think you would be the first person to know."

She was in no mood to suffer his inappropriately timed sarcasm. "We're both busy people, Malfoy. We don't check on each other constantly—did you say his apartment was broken into? Who had been the first to check? And why wasn't I informed straight away?"

He began inspecting his nails. "You're being informed now—"

"You know what I mean, Malfoy—"

He dropped his hand from his inspection and narrowed his eyes on hers. "You're being informed now because I just got back from the apartment. I've been assigned to the case—"

This was insane. "Why would _you_ above all people be assigned? Why wasn't I told about it? Harry—"

"_Potter_," He interrupted, clearly offended at the way she interjected him, "thought it wouldn't be wise to assign this case to you, considering your affiliation with Goldstein. We can't have emotions running high—Granger, where the fuck do you think you're going?!"

She was already half way towards the door before she replied. "This is ridiculous, I'm going to find Harry and—" But she never finished her sentence because the man in question was as her door.

"Malfoy, I told you not to say anything until I got here."

Draco shrugged, and offered no other response. Hermione was an array of emotions; angry, scared, hurt, and confused. The more logical part of her brain told her to stay calm, but against better judgment, she blew her top off.

"Harry James Potter! Tell me what in the _hell_ is going on?! Where's Anthony?!" She practically screamed.

He gave her an apologetic look. "Hermione, that's what we're trying to find out. I've managed to select a search party of Aurors to find him—"

"And when were you going to tell me about Malfoy being assigned to the case?"

At this point, Harry had the right mind to glare icily at Draco, who looked thoroughly amused. Hermione wanted to hex his balls off. "I don't think it's a good idea, 'Mione."

"So instead you assign _Malfoy_. What were you thinking?!"

"Malfoy is our best bet at finding him. You know he knows more about the Dark Arts than we do—"

"Wait a minute. What does _that_ have anything to do with all of this?" Hermione demanded. It seemed like this situation had taken a turn for the worst. Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes as she implored him to explain with the way she looked at Harry.

He sighed in resignation and scratched the back of his head, obviously refusing to meet her gaze. "His apartment was filled with remnants of Dark Magic. His furniture was smashed and there was blood in the kitchen. Clearly he'd put up a fight and had lost. We're not entirely sure who or why they targeted him, but my hunch is that their real target… is you." Harry was looking at her dead in the eyes with a grim line set on his mouth.

Hermione suddenly couldn't breathe. How did any of this make sense? Why would they target Anthony? He wasn't a threat to anybody and he had no enemies that she knew of. He would have told her at least. Unless Harry's assumption was correct…

Draco interrupted her train of thought, and she was surprised to find him standing next to Harry. When had he moved? How long had she been hunched over like the way she was? She was surprised to find her arms holding her waist like as if she were trying to hold herself together. "Think about it Granger; Death Eaters are currently targeting Muggleborns like yourself, and now that they're becoming scarce, they're acting much more boldly and tactless. Getting to you, being Saint Potter's Mudblood friend,—" Harry elbowed Draco, "what? I'm just trying to get into their frame of mind—the poster girl for Wizarding Equality, and now engaged to a well-known Pureblood… That'd be a landslide of a win for them. I'm surprised that they haven't done it sooner."

Hermione felt a hand on her back that began to rub it soothingly. It wasn't helping. She realized it was Harry. "Hermione, you see why we can't have you on the case."

This only made her feel even more determined. "But this is _my_ fault! If it hadn't been for us coming out as a couple, none of this would have happened! If you won't let me in on the assignment, I'm going rogue."

The room was silent again as the two men watched the intensity written all over her face. She would not let them see her break down; she refused to let the tears fall. They had to understand why she needed to be there, looking for him. They had to understand that if she wasn't, she would forever feel the guilt for not at least trying. It was Harry who broke the silence with a frustrated groan. Malfoy continued to stare at her with his arms crossed, like as if he were trying to figure a difficult puzzle.

"There's no stopping you, is there?"

"No."

Draco suddenly piqued up and strode towards the door. "I'll see you in my office tomorrow then, Granger. We'll brief the others tomorrow at six." And then he was gone.

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><p>R &amp; R lovelies xx<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you everyone for waiting for the next installment! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long; uni's just started back up. But don't worry, this entire story has been worked out from start to finish, I just need to write it all out hehe. Thank you for the lovely reviews, favourites and follows! It's certainly been such a long time since I've written fanfiction (the last time I did I was... 14, I think? Terribly written, even more so than how I write now. Shock horror!), so hopefully you won't cringe too hard reading all this. Enjoy my dearests! x_

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><p>Chapter 2: Concede<p>

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><p>The apartment was empty, save for Crookshanks, who was curled up on the left side of the sofa. He lifted his head and mewled to acknowledge Hermione coming home, but nothing more. Once upon a time, he would have leaped from the sofa to rub himself around her ankles affectionately, but he was getting on with age, even greying from the top of his furry head.<p>

She dusted herself from the soot clinging to her clothing from the fireplace, set her bag down on the coffee table and collapsed next to Crookshanks. The aging cat slightly hissed at her, which she returned with a glare that she couldn't hold for more than a second. She had more pressing problems.

As she climbed into bed later that night, she felt the overwhelming feeling to cry, but even though she willed the tears to fall, they wouldn't. Slightly shocked and frustrated, she tossed and turned for half an hour.

_Of course I'm restless. My fiancé is missing! _She told herself as she flipped over onto her back and scowled at the ceiling. _I can't cry because I'm thinking about how to get him back. This is just me going into "logic-mode". If I start freaking out about it, I'm going to prove Harry right. _

Suddenly feeling paranoid, she swung her legs over the bed and made her way to her living room. She re-cast her wards and stood there for a couple of minutes. Her head was completely void of any thought, which was saying something for Hermione Granger.

_I should be beside myself… That's what the normal grieving wife-to-be would be… right? I shouldn't be feeling like this is just another case. This is my __**fiancé**__ missing. I'm too… calm about this. _

Glancing at the clock above the fireplace, she realized it was already one o'clock in the morning. She was going to struggle with tomorrow's meeting.

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><p>As planned, the meeting was held at six in the morning. The meeting was changed to Harry's office, as there wasn't enough space in Malfoys (and perhaps because most of the Gryffindor Aurors refused to go in there). No one there looked as alert as Harry Potter. The team he had gathered were people she knew already, save for five older-looking Aurors; Seamus Finiggan, Ron Weasley, Cormac McLaggen, Dennis Creevey, Blaise Zabini, Katie Bell, and Roger Davis. Everyone seemed to be half asleep, save for Zabini, who looked more interested in the state of his cuticles.<p>

_Typical_, Hermione thought to herself as she sat across from him.

Malfoy was sitting down the back with his arms crossed. She noticed that he was watching her with scrutiny, to which she held her nose higher in the air and turned her attention back to Harry. With a flick of his wand, everyone received a piece of parchment on the desk.

"As you all are aware by now, Anthony Goldstein is missing. I've specifically chosen you lot to be on this team to retrieve him. At seventeen hundred hours yesterday, Malfoy was given the task to inspect Goldstein's apartment, only to find him missing. There were traces of Dark Magic all over the living room and hallway. The last interaction with the Floo Network was made on the previous Friday, in which Goldstein was coming home from the Ministry. This suggests that whoever broke into the Apartment either had access to Apparate in, or is clever and strong enough to break his wards. Only truly Dark Magic can break Ministry-approved wards, as you all know.

"So preferably, I would like this case to be kept in discretion. No leaks out to the _Prophet_. Now have a look at the parchment each of you has received. These are your designated roles for this assignment," he began explaining everyones assignments, and leaving Hermione last. He seemed to have hesitated before speaking.

"Hermione, we need you in collecting the research and deciphering." He turned away from her and continued with the meeting before she had any time to reply, or even grasp what he had said.

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><p>"Harry, you promised!"<p>

The-Boy-Who-Lived let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, and I kept my word. You're on the case just not in the field."

"How utterly Slytherin of you." Hermione muttered. Harry smiled ruefully at her. "I promise I won't let my emotions get the better of me! You know me, Harry."

In the silence that followed, he seemed to be weighing his options. Hermione, who continued to look at him with a stubborn and beseeching manner, was ready to continue to fight, was completely taken back by his sudden change of heart. "Fine."

Her face lit up. "Oh Harry, thank you—"

"But only if you work with Malfoy."

This certainly wasn't expected. Another thick silence fell over them before Hermione began to splutter. "_Harry James Potter_, if you think for one second that I'll agree—"

"This will prove that you can keep your emotions in check, right? Malfoy is the biggest prick I can think of that I know you have a hard time dealing with. If you can keep yourself in check around him, then we have no problem." He put simply.

Logically, this all made sense, but Hermione felt the need to contest it anyway. "We'll kill each other!"

His eyebrows shot up his forehead and he pursed his lips, as if to say, "Well, that's all up to you" as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "So I take it you don't want to be on the case." It was more of a statement than a question.

Glaring at her best friend, she conceded. "Fine. Malfoy it is."

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><p>Draco Malfoy was not overly impressed either, brooding over a glass of Firewhiskey in his office. Hermione hesitated before walking in; he may have redeemed himself, but he was still the snarky, rude and arrogant bastard he was back at Hogwarts, sans the blood prejudices. What made it worse was that he was now more broody, calculative and downright intimidating. He could certainly instill fear in his colleagues, Hermione being one of them.<p>

But she would never admit it out loud. She was a Gryffindor, was she not?

Taking a big gulp of air, she knocked on his door and pushed it open a little more, cringing at the sound of the door creaking. "So… I take it Harry sent you the memo before I got here." She tried to make the conversation light.

It didn't help.

Malfoy's eyes flickered at her with a set scowl before he curtly grunted in response.

Holding her head up high, Hermione made her way into his office, all the while conscious of the pair of grey eyes following her. She would _not_ show how much he intimidated her. She made her way towards the visitors seat across (with a beautiful wooden desk in between them) from him and sat. She couldn't help but note how much comfier this chair was in comparison to her own in her office. Then she remembered this was Malfoy's office; of course everything in here would be impeccable.

"Look, I'll say what we're both thinking; I don't want to be working with you any more than you do me—"

"Unlikely," he drawled, taking another swig from his glass, emptying it. He poured himself another.

Hermione blanched, but continued. "but since we are, I want to set things straight."

He slowly raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at her above his raised glass, motioning for her to go on, since she had stopped to hear a reaction from him.

"If we are to work together, the first thing that's needs to go is the alcohol. No drinking during work hours."

The hand that set the glass onto the table twitched. "Granger—"

"I'm not finished," she snapped, "Secondly, we will remain professional at _all_ times. Civil. There's no need to associate with each other outside of this case. Thirdly, I'll be in charge of the entire assignment. Unless I somehow _desperately_ need your help, which will be unlikely, all you need to do is to stay out of the way."

Tension filled the air as Draco glared at her. Hermione's confidence almost faltered, but was turned into surprise at the dark tone Malfoy's voice has taken. "Granger, you're treading a on a thin rope."

"I'm trying to make this easier for all of us."

"What you're saying is that you think I can't do my job."

"Malfoy, not everything is about you—"

"Cut the bullshit, Granger. You wouldn't even be on this case if it were't for your groveling—"

"I do _not_ grovel, _Malfoy—_"

"The fuck you don't. You know, accepting help from other people isn't always such a bad thing—"

"It is when it's _you_—"

"So much for professionalism—"

"How _dare_ you question my professionalism! Speak for yourself, you alcoholic—"

"I'm nowhere near intoxicated—"

"That's not the point—"

"_For fuck's sake, _Granger, you'll be the fucking death of me."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Likewise."

Draco continued to glare at her as he spoke. "Whether you like it or not, I'm on the case and you're working with me. Only Merlin knows why Potter thought it would be a good idea, but if you'd like, I can owl him about how uncooperative you're being. We haven't even started yet," he threatened her. The hairs on her arms were standing and she could hear the blood roaring in her eyes. This man was infuriating. "Or," he continued, clearly satisfied that his threat had processed with her, "we could actually do our jobs. You know as well as anyone that the best person to work with on this particular case is me. No one else has as much knowledge on Dark Magic as much as I. And if this is an attack by some Death Eater group, I'm your best bet at finding Goldstein."

As much as Hermione wanted to deny it, she couldn't. Standing up abruptly, she slammed her hands on his desk and leaned, glaring. He leaned into his chair and smirked at her openly. He held a hand out to her. "Deal?"

Looking at his hand in disgust, she slapped it away and stalked out of the office, perfectly aware that her heels were making dents into his perfectly polished floor.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Authors note**__: So another update in less than 24 hours! This is to make up for the delay on the second chapter. Initially, I intended on this story to be quite short; maybe10-12 chapters, but it could go for longer… Still not sure, but we'll see! This chapter is a little more exciting, although the next chapter will definitely have more dramione moments. I think I'm still setting the story up a bit. You'll get an interlude into the baddies in the next chapter too, so be prepared! Anyway, onwards with the story! x_

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Seek and you shall find<strong>

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><p>As guilty as Hermione felt for sticking Katie Bell and Roger Davis together to do research, she felt it necessary to be out in the field, even if it <em>was <em>with Malfoy. Currently, they were back in Anthony's apartment, which hadn't been touched since they first discovered that he was missing. Looking around, she felt a sudden urge to clean up, until she saw the bloody handprints on the kitchen walls. She suppressed the urged to gag, but clearly Malfoy had seen her reaction, judging by the way he was sneering at her as he walked past.

"You shouldn't _be_ here." He drawled as he crouched down and waved his wand slowly over the prints.

Huffing, she made her way over to him, kicking his left shoe. "You shouldn't even be on this case." She replied with disdain.

He looked over his left shoulder up at her and glared. "I could say the same for you. Look at you; this is your _fiancé's _blood and you look like you're about to pass out. How you survived the War, I have no clue—"

"It's _because _it's my fiancé's blood that I feel uneasy—"

"So you admit it; you can't handle this case?" He interjected, smirking at her.

Glaring back down at him, she shot, "I never said that."

"Your words, not mine." He got back up and conjured a piece of parchment. Holding his wand to it, the tip began to glow and words began to appear on the parchment. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "According to the age of the blood, this happened around 8pm on the Friday. Where were you then?" he asked her without really looking at her.

"I was having dinner with Ginny."

He nodded, and looked back at the wall. "Did he mention whether he was going to have visitors? A meeting, perhaps?"

She shook her head slowly, trying to remember if he had mentioned anything. "No… I don't think so. In fact, the only thing he did mention was that he was going to be working late."

"Later than 8pm?"

"Yeah. I was supposed to come back to here after dinner, but he'd owled me and told me that he wasn't going to be home until much later and told he just to head back to mine. We rescheduled."

"Does he normally reschedule?"

That seemed like a stupid question. "If needed," she replied with a tone that meant 'obviously, "but I suppose… this one seemed out of the blue…"

He turned his head back to her with a questioning look. She spoke before he did. "You think he rescheduled because the kidnapper told him to."

He nodded gravely. "It's a possibility. He most likely knew who his kidnapper was."

"Maybe he came with him through the Floo network."

"There'd be a record of it."

"So… this person definitely Apparated in. But no one else is supposed to have access through the ward but me."

"Unless there was something Goldstein wasn't telling you."

"…What do you mean, Malfoy."

He shrugged, looking away from her. "Well, I'm just saying; Goldstein is a very sought-after man, in and out of the Ministry."

The audacity this man has! "If you're insinuating that he's been _cheating_ on me—"

"I'm just scoping the possibilities. Perhaps it was a jealous lover who wasn't happy with your engagement," he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, "its quite possible. He's rather friendly with the women around the office—"

"Draco, honestly, I don't think this is the time to rile Granger up." A low and steady voice rounded the corner of the kitchen. Hermione jumped slightly. Blaise Zabini rarely ever said a word; he was very much the dark and silent type. He was leaning on frame of the doorway, watching them with a hint of amusement touching his golden-caramel eyes. He exuded sexual confidence, like a deadly but graceful panther. He was a around the same height as Malfoy (which meant they towered over Hermione's petite frame) but Malfoy was slightly leaner than him.

Malfoy scoffed. "I'm not trying to. I'm merely being logical."

"You mean you're being an asshole." Hermione shot back, scowling.

Malfoy glared back as Zabini made his way into the kitchen with a dark chuckle. "Some things never change. Granger, Davis has put together some information on Goldstein from the Friday he went missing. Seems as though he hadn't been in his office since 3pm that same day."

"What?" But he'd told her… No, there had to be some other explanation. "Maybe he took a longer lunch—"

"Zabini just said—"

"I _know _what he said, Malfoy. It just doesn't make sense!" She let out a frustrated cry as she buried her face into her hands. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over. _Great, __**now**__ I feel like crying?! _She thought ruefully. She wouldn't let these two Slytherins see her at her weakest. But there was just no way Anthony couldn't have been having an affair.

Could he have…?

"Okay so, what we do know is that Goldstein left the office at 3pm, and was attacked at 8pm. We need to figure out where he was in between those hours."

Hermione's head began whirling around again, and she felt herself sway. Before she knew it, she was in the arms of someone else. Someone familiar…

"'Mione! Are you okay?" Ron Weasley's concerned voice sounded distant, but she could feel his breathe puncturing the air around her face. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear Malfoy's annoyed growl.

"Ron… What in the world—"

"I'm Zabini's partner, remember? Lucky I came into the kitchen on time; highly doubt any one of these Slytherin bastards would have helped you."

"I'm _wounded_, Weasley."

"Fuck off, Zabini."

Ron helped her to her feet, still unsure of whether it was okay to let go of her. She gave him a gracious smile, hopefully letting him know that she was going to be fine. After a few moments, he hesitantly let her go.

"I don't know if you should be on this case, Hermione—"

"Oh, not you too, Ron."

His face reddened. "Look at you! You look so pale and you clearly can't keep it together. I'll tell Harry that—"

"_There's no need to tell Harry anything."_ Hermione warned, finally feeling like herself. That was one of the good qualities about Ron; her being frustrated with him always put her in a position where she had to constantly be thinking, even if it brought out an ugly side of her. It was also one of the reasons why it didn't work out when they dated. They were never on the same page.

She looked to her right to see Malfoy smirking down at her. "I'll hear none of it from you either—or you, for that matter," she looked pointedly at Zabini, who suddenly looked surprised, "I'm here and that's final."

She looked away from the three men and waved her wand in the air. Suddenly faint glowing lines appeared in the air, leading out the doorway and into the living room, all in different colours of red, yellow and blue. The glowing lines had a black aura around them, and as Hermione followed them out into the living room, they felt cold to work through. She shivered, feeling the goosebumps rise on her arms as she found remnants of the Death Eaters mark still plastered on the glass door of the balcony.

But it wasn't the Death Eater mark that made her blood roar in her ears. It was the message underneath.

"How did you miss this when you came here the first time, Draco?" Zabini asked from behind her. Of course, Malfoy had the answer.

"It was meant for her. Obviously the only one who could activate it would be Granger."

Hermione felt a hand makes its way around her (no doubt, it was Ron), but she underneath the same hand that was supposed to be comforting her, she could feel the words that were scarred into her flesh burning under the touch.

It did nothing but make her feel even more helpless as she muttered the message out loud, barely any louder than a whisper.

"We're coming for you, Mud…Mudbl—" she couldn't finish the sentence; she'd finally let the tears fall.

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><p>"Derrick."<p>

"Malfoy."

The former Slytherins stared at each other from opposite sides of the jail cell, one grinning maniacally and the other with a hard line set on his mouth. Peregrine Derrick had been captured along with three other Death Eaters on the outskirts of Muggle London, torturing Muggleborn families who had decided to stay away from Wizarding Society after The War. It had happened three days after their investigation at Goldstein's apartment, leaving Harry group of Aurors with even more work.

Hermione, Harry and Ron watched Malfoy and Zabini from a corner further away from the cell Peregrine was in. It was certainly interesting to see all three men in the same room, once comrades in the house of Slytherin, turned enemies.

Hermione vaguely wondered how Malfoy and Zabini felt about it.

Peregrine's eyes flickered towards her, and his grin widened. "How can you both stand it?" he asked, sounding amused.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but he refused to respond. Zabini continued to stare on, but his normally bored expression seemed somewhat more intense than usual. Peregrine took this as a sign to reiterate what he had asked.

"How can you stand to be breathing the same air as that—" he cocked his head to Hermione, and spat with more malice, "_Mudblood?"_

She firmly stood her ground, not wanting to let the Death Eater see that his jab had affected her. But Ron was not in the same mind frame. "You filthy Death Eater piece of shit, I'll kill you—!"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching over to restrain him, but Harry had already beaten her to it.

"What do you know about the Goldstein kidnapping?" Malfoy's voice cut into the tension, creating a new, intimidating aura in the holding room. Harry went back to writing his notes once Ron seemed 'calmer'.

Peregrine went back to grinning at Draco. His left eye was twitching slightly and his clammy hands were gripping the bars of his cell so tightly that the whites of knuckles were showing. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, Malfoy. We're bringing _him_ back, we are! Yes, we are—and when he comes back, we'll have done all the work for him! He'll be so proud of us—so proud of us, he'll be—" abruptly, he began laughing madly, throwing his head back. The decay of his teeth was clearly visible by the way his mouth had stretched open.

He settled back down, then eyes each and every one of them. "We'll have wiped out the earth of all this _filth_; Mudbloods, Muggles and Blood Traitors alike. You'll all be dead. Filthy, the lot of you. Malfoy, Zabini," he shot the two men a menacing look, "Your parents would be rolling around in their graves. A couple of fucking blood traitors," he tutted, then his gaze slowly made its way back to Hermione, leering at her in a very inappropriate way. "Then again, if all Mudbloods looked like she does, perhaps they would be turned into sex slaves in the new world—"

It was then that Ron sent a Stinging Jinx at Peregrine's hands. "You're fucking disgusting. If you ever lay a hand on Hermione—"

"Weasley, calm the fuck down." Malfoy barked, only slightly moving his head in Ron's direction. Hermione could almost see the frustration breaking out of Malfoy's otherwise cool demeanor. He turned back to Peregrine, who had let go of the bars and back away into the corner of his cell, glaring at them all and clutching his swelling hands.

"Voldemort—"

"Do_ not _speak_ his name, _you filthy blood traitor!"

"—is not coming back. It's not possible. Potter took care of that."

"_He_ promised us he would be! You know nothing of the Dark Lord's power!"

Pause. "Is this the same person who kidnapped Goldstein?"

Peregrine clearly had spoken too much. So he refused to speak, and instead chose to glare at his former housemate.

"We found a message meant for Granger at Goldstein's apartment. What do you intend on doing with her?"

Still nothing.

"What does capturing Granger mean to you?"

Absolute silence.

Malfoy began tugging at his sleeves absentmindedly, as if trying to fix the kinks that clearly weren't there. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Derrick, for the sake of being acquaintances back at Hogwarts, I'm going to give you a choice. You can either give us the information that we want and serve your sentence in a rehabilitation center, or… you can go straight to Azkaban and the Dementors can have their way with you."

This seemed to have surprised Peregrine for a split second before his face turned back into the malicious glare. "I care not for comforts; send me to Azkaban. You'll all soon meet your fate." He spat as he scratched at his swelling hands.

Hermione noticed this to be a sign of anxiety, and had only noticed that he was scratching because he had broken the skin of his knuckles and made them bleed. _Like a bloody drug addict. _She thought. _Addicted to the high of using Dark Magic…_

"Azkaban it is." Malfoy muttered as he made his way towards the exit, but stopped at the sound of Peregrine's voice.

"He feels betrayed, Malfoy. He's very angry with you."

The blond turned around. "Who is?"

The same creepy smile that had been on Peregrine' s face reappeared. "No fun in spoiling the surprise! Especially when the Mudblood over there is going to be the guest of honor," he jerked his head over to Hermione, "once we kill her, the whole world will understand that Muggles and Mudbloods alike are only good for two things: serving Purebloods and dying."

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><p><em>Reviews would be lovely! Also, if you seen any mistakes, don't hesitate to email me! x<em>


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